


Notions

by RedHorse



Series: Tomarry/Harrymort prompt fills [7]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, PWP, Topping from the Bottom, bondage for beginners
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-22
Updated: 2019-04-22
Packaged: 2020-01-15 12:37:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18499117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedHorse/pseuds/RedHorse
Summary: Harry is determined to do what he has to with Tom Riddle.





	Notions

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Yoshishisha](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yoshishisha/gifts).



> This one turned out to just be porn? I didn't reach all the awesomeness in your prompt, yoshishisha, but maybe there'll be a part 2! <3
> 
> (If you don't like porn, skip this one and I hope you like the other fic, I guess? No hard feelings. :D)
> 
> Eternal thanks to Cybrid, trashgoblinwizardparty and Miraculous for beta reading!

“I’ve been thinking,” Harry said, then paused deliberately. He felt Tom’s eyes on him at once.

“Yes?”

“I’ve been thinking that I’d like to try something a little different, if you’re willing.” He rubbed his thumb absently over his lower lip, watching Tom’s gaze drop instantly to his mouth.

“I’m willing,” Tom said roughly. He held a hand out toward Harry, but Harry stepped backward and out of range, then reached into his back pocket to pull out the length of sturdy silk.

He wrapped it loosely around his knuckles, then held it out in front of him. “I’d like to tie you up.” Tom’s gaze moved from Harry’s face to his hand and back in an instant, a flash of trepidation in his eyes.

Swallowing his disappointment, Harry hastily stuffed the binding back in his pocket. “Never mind. It was a silly idea, I—”

“—no,” Tom interrupted. “It’s not a silly idea.” He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing. Harry licked his lips and waited. “Yes. I’ll try it.”

Tom walked away from Harry and toward the bed with long, restless strides, loosening his tie, shrugging out of his robes. Harry trailed after him, half-giddy, half-shocked this was actually about to happen. Could he really go through with it? He was disturbingly hard, there was a faint ringing in his ears, and his hand felt oversensitive on the binding, like he could feel every fiber of the fine silk when he rubbed a corner of it between his thumb and forefinger.

“I’ve never heard of people doing this,” Tom said, as though Harry had raised the topic of a new way to approach Muggle-magical trade reform, not being tied up in bed. He toed out of his shoes and nudged them beneath the bed, and lay his wand on the side table before he sat down to wait for Harry.

Harry walked around the bed, inexplicably embarrassed by the way his trousers were tented by his cock. There was no one here to see but Tom, and soon, Tom would…

Harry felt his mind go totally blank for an instant, and he blinked and shook his head to regain his senses. He was thinking too far ahead. He only needed to think of the very next moment.

Tom was unbuttoning his cuffs and frowning up at Harry. “Is everything all right?”

“Yes,” Harry said gruffly, and nudged Tom’s knees apart so he could stand between his spread thighs, reaching down to unbutton Tom’s shirt himself. He took in Tom’s throat and the scattered hair below his collarbones, his tight brown nipples, and tried not to hate himself for liking what he saw. Tom Riddle was lovely; anyone would say so. At least until he was reborn in a suitably monstrous body, fifty years from now.

Harry yanked the two halves of Tom’s shirt apart and pulled so that the sleeves were wound halfway down Tom’s arms, half-pinning them behind his back. Harry paused and they stared at one another, mutually startled by this inadvertent preview of what Harry intended to do with the silk.

Then Tom leaned back on his elbows with his shirt still tangled around his forearms. “Are you sure this is how you want me?” he asked lowly.

“I want your hands tied together, and then to the headboard,” Harry said, and when Tom’s eyes clouded like he might have changed his mind, Harry dropped to his knees and loosened Tom’s belt, unbuttoned his fly, and reached inside his pants to grasp his cock. It was warm and close within the layers of fabric; Harry could feel how Tom’s skin was slightly tacky with sweat. He wasn’t as hard as Harry, but he still felt silky-firm in and his cock jerked eagerly in Harry’s grasp.

Tom had wandless magic, so it wasn’t as though Harry could truly render him defenseless just by tying him up. But the combination of the restraints and the distraction of Harry riding him...Harry shuddered at the thought, his mouth watering with shameful eagerness, and he had to clench his teeth to overcome the wave of self-disgust he felt knowing how much he’d enjoy it.

“Strange notions,” Tom murmured, but his face was solemn and his eyes were bright and focused as he struggled free of his shirt and tossed it on the floor. Harry had never seen him do something like that before. He was obsessive about his few fine possessions, particularly his clothes. Harry supposed he had to budget carefully to make ends meet and still be able to mingle in Pure-blood society, even though the flat above Borgin & Burkes was offered free of charge as part of his compensation for working in the store.

Harry watched Tom crawl back in the narrow bed and twist onto his back, his head almost brushing the headboard. Then he looked over at Harry, a clear invitation.

Harry shed his trousers hurriedly but left his shirt on. Tom didn’t comment about Harry staying half-clothed; he never did. His own trousers were still open but unremoved, so Harry paused between his sprawled legs to get him free of them, then threw them in the same direction Tom had the shirt. Unclothed, Tom’s long, thick cock stood up from its nest of silky, surprisingly sparse hair, and Harry shuddered at the thought of taking the whole thing. It shouldn’t fascinate him, even after all these weeks, but he found himself aching to take it in his mouth.

“Forgetting something?” Tom murmured, and Harry looked up, surprised, to see Tom crossing his wrists and holding them over his head. Harry’s mouth went dry. Gazes locked, Harry crawled slowly up Tom’s body, squatting over his hips so their cocks brushed. Tom jerked his hips up to trap them together, making them both groan.

Leaning over him, Harry wound the silk over and around Tom’s wrists and the heaboard until he’d formed a secure, painless binding. Tom immediately tested it before Harry had even drawn away. He wasn’t able to find more give than what Harry had left deliberately, which wasn’t enough to let the silk pull away from the skin but would ensure proper circulation.

“Done this before?” Tom murmured, his head tilted back and his gaze lifted to watch Harry tie the knot. There was a note of...something...there. Harry glanced down at him and shook his head.

“No. But I’ve wanted to for a long time.” He trailed his hands down Tom’s forearms and watched gooseflesh break out wherever he let his touch turn feather-light. “Have you?”

“No. Who but you would have such a notion?”

Harry smirked, amused at the idea that he, Harry, had invented the most basic of BDSM concepts. The 1940s were a conservative time. He was lucky Tom Riddle was willing to fuck another wizard at all, let alone in this unconventional way. Harry was remaining awfully hard in spite of being half-hysterical; but here he was, his cock straining as he bent and found a patch of skin on Tom’s neck to lick and bite.

Harry reached down and grasped both their cocks in his hand. He rubbed them together, the dry friction making Tom hiss, until Harry’s palm swept over the pre-come on his own head, enough for a few half-slick strokes before Tom rolled his hips beneath Harry. The idea of feeling the movement _inside_ had Harry scrambling to line Tom up. Then he hesitated. He’d never taken Tom dry, but he didn’t want to draw any attention to his wand.

“Do it,” Tom said roughly, bending his knees so he could thrust up against Harry more forcefully, his cock rasping against the hair at the crux of Harry’s thighs and his balls, already tightening and sensitive. “I know you keep it on you. I suppose it makes sense, given what you do.”

Harry blinked, and slowly took his wand from the holster in his sleeve he’d taken such pains to conceal. Tom watched him, and Harry, conscious of his attention, glanced up and froze at the sight. Tom’s lips were parted, his eyes warm and half-lidded. Still a very human color: deep, penetrating brown.

Harry murmured the spell, startled by the rush of cool sensation in his arse. It was subtler when Tom did it. Then he felt for his own hole and tested his spellwork with a fingertip, moaning at the feeling of the smooth pressure on his rim.

Tom’s eyes narrowed. “Harry,” he growled. Harry looked down at him. A sheen of sweat was breaking out on his brow, and his eyes were vivid. Harry grasped Tom’s cock and sank down on it. He’d done the same thing before, of course, but never with Tom prone, _willingly helpless_ , underneath him. It made taking Tom’s cock, always heady, twice as intoxicating.

Harry wasn’t used to the position, or at least being on this side of it, so he had to struggle a moment with the angle, and how to lift and lower himself with the most ease. While he tested it, Tom muttered beneath him, hips jerking. Harry, panting, smiled down at him with—unconscious fondness—but that was _wrong_ , he…

“Harry,” Tom growled. “ _Harry_.”

Hearing his name, from Tom, like _that_ , shouldn’t have meant anything, but Harry found himself grinding down desperately, his hole seizing at the feeling of intense pressure on his prostate, and then he moved, fast, instinctive, bracing himself on Tom’s thighs. Harry’s cock was leaking, untouched, but it didn’t matter. He was going to come like this, just from Tom in his arse, he could tell. It wasn’t even going to take very long.

But it wasn’t _Harry_ who was supposed to be losing his head...he...he had to draw his wand, at that last moment when _Tom_ was lost, and…

Tom’s hips jerked up to meet Harry’s every thrust. “That’s it, fuck yourself,” he muttered, his eyes a dark gleam when Harry, half-manic, met them. He stared at Tom’s face through his sweat-tangled fringe, and forgot his plans, absorbed by the eye contact, Tom’s cock stretching him open, the reddened skin of Tom’s wrists below the bindings he was straining against—

“You feel so…” Harry breathed, leaning forward to balance with one hand on Tom’s chest as he rode Tom’s thrusting hips, so he could snake his right hand between them. He whimpered at the feel of his own touch.

“There you are,” Tom said, his voice low but strangely composed, as though he wasn’t damp at the temples, fucked into the pillows, tied up and grunting when his hips snapped up against Harry’s arse. “Touch your pretty cock.”

Those last few words, and Harry’s tight grip, put him over the edge. He came in three thick ropes, so forcefully there were a few viscous drops on Tom’s throat. Tom Vanished the silk and rolled Harry over all in the same dizzy moment. He pressed back Harry’s thighs and drove in and out, merciless, half-snarling.

The next morning Harry awoke in a deeper well of self-loathing even than before. But maybe—maybe the time wasn’t right, anyway. He recalled how easily Tom had Vanished the restraints, how he had the advantage over Harry before Harry even realized what was happening. Maybe Harry’s loss of focus had saved him, in the end. He’d try again, with a better plan.


End file.
